


Refricare Cicatricem

by ravenhead (socksy)



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socksy/pseuds/ravenhead
Summary: To open old wounds.Arturia and Mordred meet on Chaldea, shenanigans ensue.





	1. Auribus Teneo Lupum

**Author's Note:**

> “Auribus teneo lupum, nam neque quomodo a me amittam invenio neque uti retineam scio.” - Terentius, Phormio 506
> 
> "I've got a wolf by the ears; for I neither know how to get rid of her, nor yet how to keep her."

Arturia wasn't sure why she followed Mordred around Chaldea, always under cover of spirit form.

At first she told herself it was out of curiosity. Then it was to ensure the former knight didn't start any trouble with the other servants (there were several incidents, during which Arturia realized appearing would only cause more problems, and so watched wordlessly as Mordred provoked various servants much larger than her.)

Finally it simply became habit. Whenever she spotted her she would soundlessly float behind, observing. Mordred was never aware that her father had been summoned, and Arturia preferred to keep it that way until she knew what action to take, or if she wanted to take any action at all. 

Mordred still had the same propensity for wearing as little clothing as possible, but seemed more skittish this time around. She felt no shame in traipsing about in her loincloth and tube top, but if there was an unexpected noise the armour would appear in a split second, encasing her in a red and silver shell.

At least she seemed to be opening up - it was surprising to see Mordred actually talking to other servants. Arturia could remember few instances of Mordred taking a liking to someone back in Camelot, and even fewer of people liking her back. She still didn't endear herself, often too blunt and abrasive, but in her own clumsy way she was learning how to communicate with others - maybe even call them friend.  
She had immediately been drawn to the gigantic Kintoki. The gentle Arash seemed to find her endearing, and through his boundless patience eventually gained permission to fix the hairs that had come loose from her wild ponytail as he good-naturedly chided her for her latest antics, the initial response of threats mellowing down to half-hearted grumbles. Even the nameless Archer laid off his usual grouchiness once Mordred gobbled down anything he cooked with the highest praise. She was slowly carving out an identity for herself separate from her relation to her father, and Arturia didn't want to do anything to disrupt the delicate balance she saw the other walking.

The king utilized caution, manifesting only when necessary to avoid running in to her son.

Of course it would be the one time she let her guard down to have a nice cup of tea when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around to see bright green eyes eerily similar to her own, wide and staring straight at her. Drat. Caught.

Red and blue faced each other, each in the position of both the deer and the headlights.

Arturia's jaw clenched as she clasped her cup tightly.

Mordred's body went hot, then cold, then hot and cold. Her throat closed up and her hands started shaking uncontrollably. She tried to speak but could only let out a strangled noise.

The sound of the door opening made them both jump.

"Excuse me, but there's a daily quest-" Mash began. The demiservant stopped for half a second when she saw the pair together, but decided to continue on. "We need all the Sabers."

Arturia swallowed. "Yes," she kept her voice level. "I'm ready." She made a wide curve around Mordred and out the door without looking back, still holding the teacup.

Mordred remained rooted in place. _Breathe, dammit. Just breathe please breathe why can't I breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe-_

She kept trying to summon her armour but the ringing in her ears was making her head spin. Gold flakes hovered in a vague outline of her helmet around the edges of her vision, mocking her.

Mash carefully approached, hands fluttering before deciding not to touch. "Why don't you sit this one out?" she suggested, voice gentle.

"Shut up, _shut up._ " Mordred gasped, finding her voice. "Just leave."

The woman took a step back. "Alright," her voice grew even softer. "Let me know if you need anything." She left the room, finally leaving it empty.

Mordred's wobbling knees finally gave out, sending her collapsing to the ground. She wanted Mash to come back. She wanted everyone in this entire building to leave. She wanted to see her father again. She wanted to see her father _die._ She didn't know what she wanted. She wanted to not have to think about this.

The girl curled into a tight ball on the cold tile floor, hugging her knees as tightly as she could and digging her nails into her arms. _Tears are poison. Tears are poison._ She repeated her mother's words to herself as she waited for the waves that ripped from her stomach through her chest to subside.


	2. Mihi Aqua Haeret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In hac causa mihi aqua haeret." - Cicero, Ep. Q. 2.7.2.2
> 
> "In this question the water stops for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out kind of awkward and stilted but at least it serves its purpose, hopefully.

Mordred's fist made contact with the wall of the bathroom, reopening angry red scrapes across her knuckles. _Pathetic._ All the things she'd ever imagined saying to her father should they meet again, wasted. She'd only been able to stand there gaping like an idiot.

While her father was just drinking tea like it was no big deal, like she owned the place, like _she_ was the one who belonged there, not Mordred.

She went to the sink, wrenching the handle of the faucet and sending ice-cold water roaring into the porcelain basin. She dunked her face in and held it there until the needles in her skin faded to a dull static. She didn't come up until there were sparks behind her eyelids and her lungs were screaming for relief.

The gulps of air she took felt stale, an acrid taste lingering in the back of her throat. She gripped the edges of the sink and went down again.

~~~~~ 

Arturia hesitated as she arrived back at the Chaldea Gate. Her single footstep echoed in the cavernous chamber and sent ripples through the massive glowing orb behind her.

Mash paused as she headed towards the illuminated EXIT sign. "Are you coming to lunch?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

The blonde stared past her and into the light streaming from the doorway.

"I think I'd better not."

Her form dissolved into the air, leaving no sign she'd ever been there at all.

~~~~~ 

That was the way it remained. The two Sabers made a conscious effort to avoid each other; darting away if they saw blue or red rounding the corner, checking rooms before entering to make sure the other wasn't there.

~ 

The top of Mordred's head caught Jeanne d'Arc's eye before it could be pulled back behind the doorframe. Too late for her to run now.

The knight slowly grew into the opening, stopping short when she saw Arturia seated next to the woman on the break room couch. _Like she was the one who belonged there, not Mordred the outsider always the outsider-_

"Ah-" Jeanne began, taking heed of who she was in between. She decided to push through the tension in hopes to soften it, smiling gently.

"We were just about to have a snack, would you like to join us?"

The air crackled, the Ruler's words apparently having had no effect on the comfort level. Arturia's hair obscured her face, shielding her expression. Mordred's eyes flickered back and forth, settling anywhere but her father. They rested briefly on Jeanne before moving away again with a strange expression. _This woman had the same face as her, the same face as-_

"No." Mordred's voice sounded pained as she backed away again.

The Frenchwoman made half a move to pursue her, but was stopped by Arturia's hand on her arm, drawing her back down to her seat. "Leave her be."

Those were the first words she had ever heard the king speak regarding Mordred. It appeared they would also be the last as Arturia turned her face away, folding and refolding her hands in her lap.

The only sound in the room was Mordred's hurried footsteps, quieter and quieter until they faded entirely.

~~~~~ 

Mordred raced back to her refuge of the small, anonymous bathroom. She felt her stomach lurch, barely making it to the toilet before retching until there was nothing left inside her. The sounds echoed off the walls, bouncing back straight to her aching head.

Mordred slumped against the wall, leaning her forehead against the cool tile.

_"Fuck you."_

~~~

Arturia wondered how long their game of carefully avoiding each other would continue before one of them broke the cycle. Apparently, not long.

Now that wasn't good enough. She had to _notice_ Mordred ignoring her, the girl placing herself in her line of vision just to turn her back to her.

It was the third time of almost bumping into her that day- all Arturia wanted was to get down one damn hallway peacefully, but of course Mordred had to take one step to her side, blocking her.

Arturia sighed. "Move."

Mordred pretended she hadn't heard her. She had long since grown tired of this immaturity.

 _"Move, or I will make you."_ Arturia clipped, louder.

That finally made Mordred turn toward her, something vicious in her eyes.

"You're not the king here," her voice slithered from her, scaly and venomous. "You can't _make_ me do anything."

Arturia's lips flattened into a thin line. "Are you willing to test that?"

Mordred's sword materialized in her hand. "I've been waiting to."


	3. Cedere Nescio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know not how to yield."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the previous chapter to include more, go check that out before reading this one!

Arturia hesitated. "Listen, I don't want to-" she didn't have time to finish her sentence before Mordred swung Clarent above her head and down, leaving her no choice but to summon Excalibur and block it a hair's breadth from her nose.

She pushed upwards, knocking the other back. Mordred took a step to regain her balance before wheeling around and charging again.

"I know you're angry-" the king's sentence was again cut off by having to block a large sword aimed at her heart.

Mordred's eyes burned. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this-"

"But with how you were created-"

_"Born."_ Mordred's words were punctuated by swings. "I was born." she grunted. "And I've committed no crime by existing."

The clash of metal rang through the narrow hallway, pushing Arturia backwards. Whatever she had in years of training, Mordred matched in unbridled rage. She wasn't sure how long she could last only by blocking.

Mordred gained ground. "You're the one-" _Clang._ "-Who couldn't even-" _Crash._ "-Recognize me as successor."

Their swords crossed. Arturia shoved forward as hard as she could, sending the other back. "You liked the _idea_ of being king but have no idea what that entails." Excalibur sliced across the air, warding the other off. "You could have been anything you wanted, don't inflict yourself with the misery of ruling."

Mordred's fists clenched tighter around Clarent's handle. "That was my birthright, had you recognized me properly."

"And how could I have done that? How do you think it would have gone over with my subjects had they known I had a bastard homunculus created by my half-sister?"

"They figured it out eventually, didn't they?"

"You certainly made sure of that."

Mordred raised her chin, her eyes cold. "Yes, I did." The words hung heavy in the air.

Arturia remained level. "I had to be a king before anything. My kingdom came first."

Mordred tensed and swung her sword low as her opponent dodged, kicking it back. Using the momentum, she let her arm swing back like a pendulum, then forward again with a roar.

Arturia was faster. She feigned left and swung a leg under Mordred's, knocking her on her stomach. Not giving her time to process, she gripped Mordred's wrists in one hand and bent her arms in a W behind her back. Noticing her legs kicking upward, she pinned them back down with her knee. Despite her position Mordred kept thrashing and screaming curses, each buck loosening her father's tenuous grip. Arturia wasn't sure how long she could keep her subdued.

"Mordred, just-" her voice was drowned out.

_"You don't even care, you never cared, you just-"_

_"CALM YOURSELF."_ she roared in her old king's voice. That made Mordred's limbs freeze and her mouth shut, either from shock or some lingering instinctual sense of obedience. Arturia didn't dwell on which it might be, instead using the narrow window to scoop up both their fallen swords in her free hand.

She remained in her awkward position for a moment until she was sure Mordred was listening. "I'm going to let you go," she said, her voice softer. "As long as you promise not to attack me again."

Mordred remained silent. Arturia took that as the best response she was going to get.

The older blonde gradually released her legs, then her arms. She slowly rose to her feet, clasping both swords in her arms.

Mordred watched from her position on the floor until she decided it was safe. She awkwardly stood, joints sore from their position. She spit a mouthful of blood on the floor that had accumulated from a split lip during her fall. Arturia's brow twitched. Whether or not Mordred would ever believe it, she honestly hadn't wanted to hurt her. 

The younger's eyes remained on her father, seeming to size up the situation, but she remained still now that Arturia held both swords. At least she was cognizant enough to realize that. Regardless of arms, Arturia didn't think she could take her in another fight. She felt drained and uncertain of where to take it from here- she had learned a long time ago that there was no way of knowing what Mordred would do next.

Mordred stared hard. "Just because you hate me doesn't mean I don't exist." She stalked past Arturia, swiping Clarent back into her hand. Arturia didn't stop her. The sound of her footsteps carried back until they faded away.

Arturia remained where she stood. "I don't hate you." she said to the empty hall.


	4. Ignotus per Ignotum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Unknown by the more unknown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen I promised myself I'd shart out this chapter 2 weeks ago just take it

A great crackling sound rang through Chaldea, coming from somewhere in the vents. Every resident paused what they were doing and looked in the direction of the boiler room as what sounded like an important piece of equipment gave a final dying groan.

"Not to worry," Da Vinci called as she pushed through. "Nothing is wrong, this can be fixed."

The loose gathering of Servants looked around at each other. Mata Hari raised an eyebrow. Jing Ke shrugged in response. D'Eon put their ear to the door as several banging noises and muffled swears could be heard from the other side.

After a few minutes the scientist reemerged, several streaks of soot marring the otherwise lovely face. "This may take a bit longer than I thought."

A chill breeze ran through the building.

~~~~~

It took a week of extra blankets and an overflowing complaint box, but eventually it had to be admitted that the heating had given out. The human staff's fingers were constantly trembling, any exposed flesh covered in goosebumps as the snowy climate bit through the drafty walls. Heroic Spirits were more resistant to temperature, but not entirely immune. Whatever spare scraps of cloth they had were wrapped around each other as they sat huddled in lethargic piles.

Arturia clutched the thick fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders as she braced herself to expose a bare hand to the cold metal doorknob of the break room. She just had to keep telling herself a hot cup of tea would make this journey worth it.

A small figure sat huddled in the corner of the couch. Of course Mordred would be in here at the same time, wouldn't she?

Mordred only barely turned her head as her father made her way to the stove and set up the kettle. It might have been that the cold had drained her of any energy, but she seemed more or less resigned to her presence now. At least she wasn't attacking on sight, which Arturia took as progress.

The king glanced back as she lit the stove, welcoming the patch of heat from the thin blue flame. "Aren't you cold?"

"No." Mordred replied, visibly shivering. She tucked her knees closer to her chest. The few pieces of red cloth she wore offered exactly as much protection from the elements as one would expect. Arturia could see the goosebumps spread across bare shoulders from where she stood, an uncomfortable feeling worrying at her chest.  
The older blonde fingered at the clasp of her cloak, loosening it. She took a step towards the direction of the couch, swinging the wool around to drape Mordred's shoulders.

Mordred yelped, jerking away and bracing her hands against the arms of her seat, eyes wide.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, the cloak falling.

Arturia blinked back at the harsh reaction. "Alright," she replied, "I apologize." She slowly backed away toward the singing teapot, mentally adding "approaching from behind" on the growing list of Things Not To Do Around Mordred.

The other slowly shifted back into her hunched position, wrapping the cloak around her frame. _"Mmph."_ she grunted, burying her face into the fur collar.

"You're quite welcome." Arturia replied. "Do you-" she was interrupted by a loud warble coming from Mordred's stomach. "Are you hungry?"

 _"No."_ Mordred growled, burying herself deeper inside the blue cloth. Arturia suspected the response was more reflexive than anything as she began opening overhead cabinets and rummaging through. Any further protests were drowned out as she fished out a prepackaged bun and brought it over, extending it in her hand.

Mordred continued edging further away any time her father got within a few feet of her very large personal bubble, drawing her shoulders in tighter. Her eyes flicked between Arturia, the bun in her hand, and back again. The older was growing impatient. They were both here on Chaldea, Mordred would just have to get used to it.

Hunger apparently won out as she snatched the bun from her father's hand, ripping the plastic off and gobbling it down like she thought it might disappear.

Arturia watched, still uncomfortably close. _What else did she want?_

"You still eat like a wild animal." Arturia remarked.

Mordred slowed down her chewing, savoring the last few bites. "My mother," she said through the last mouthful. "She didn't, really." She swallowed. "Feed me much."

The words hit Arturia like a punch to the gut. _Of course she didn't._ She wondered for a moment if it were possible to cross dimensions and throttle Morgana. She would readily admit she didn't know the first thing about raising a child, but keeping them fed and clothed didn't seem like too far a stretch.

"That was absolutely irresponsible of her."

Mordred suddenly felt defensive. "She had a lot else to do." Her mother hadn't been the best, but she was the only one she'd ever known. And this person was sure as hell the last she'd want passing judgement on her life.

"That doesn't excuse her not taking proper care of her child." Arturia replied, indignant.

"I can take care of myself." Mordred snapped back.

"Can you really." the other responded dryly.

Mordred stared back, eyes hot. "And what would you know about raising one?" she challenged.

Arturia looked away and sighed, exhausted. Every conversation had to turn into an argument, Mordred knew how to hit where it'd hurt the most. She was partially to blame as well, she knowingly walked right into it.

She tried to remember how it had been back when the Round Table was still intact. Before.

She'd made a point not to get heavily involved with the Knights' personal lives - she was their king, she was there to command them and they to be commanded by her, beyond that would have been improper. And of course, it would have been impossible for them to know about hers. His.

The youngest Knight had arrived at court attention-starved; following her around like a duckling, watching everything she did with wide, adoring eyes. She'd speculated that Mordred was looking for affection in the wrong places, casting buckets into a well that was dry. She'd assumed Mordred would lay off once she made some of her own friends and grew accustomed to the new circle of nobility. But Mordred didn't get along well with the stuffiness of the upper crust, she'd had trouble fitting in and didn't grow close to others easily, and so the close-knit Table remained the only people she knew.

But mercy, if she hadn't been _brilliant._ So young, but talented enough to drop jaws with her raw power and sheer audacity. Small in stature, but on the battlefield she was massive, her presence impossible to ignore. She had immediately been invited to court and given her own sword, Clarent, modeled after the King's own. She had accepted her vows with a solemn nod, as if this were less a privilege and more the logical progression of the order her life was supposed to take.

She'd felled any opposers like a cat dropping a hunted mouse at her master's feet. The King had rarely given her more than a curt nod and a new task to be fulfilled, not wanting to give her any idea of closeness. The Knights of the Round were a tight-knit group, but their liege had always remained at a distance. _The King doesn't understand others' feelings._ She had thought it would be better that way, at an arm's length.  
Mordred had earned her sword and her place as a Knight, that was the most Arturia had been able to give her.

Furthermore, Mordred had very little composure. Arturia had witnessed the brutality she was capable of unleashing, a wild look in her eyes. She'd left a courtyard full of traitors with no survivors, the walls stained with blood. The King was not permitted to know fear, only knowing how to charge head-on, but part of her hadn't wanted to know what else the girl might be capable of. _She'd found out, though, hadn't she?_

"Your tea is growing cold." Mordred interrupted her reverie.

Arturia started, breaking out of her thoughts.

"Or I suppose you could keep standing way too close to me." The snark continued, but only half-heartedly. She hadn't meant to retaliate like that, she just never thought about what she was saying before she said it.

Arturia numbly turned back towards the countertop, fetching the now-cold liquid. She filled an extra mug and set it next to the girl on the couch, who didn't draw as far away this time.

The other paused for a moment as she headed for the doorway. Her mouth opened, then closed. She wordlessly exited the room.

Mordred tucked herself deeper into the cloak she'd left behind.

_"Thanks."_


	5. Astra Inclinant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Astra inclinant, sed non obligant."
> 
> "The stars incline us, they do not bind us."

There was a flash as the Arm of Dawn threw a fiery ball towards the group of Servants, huge and blinding. Mordred let out a cry as it caught her in the chest, sending her flying back.

As she hit the ground and had the wind knocked out of her, a blue blur crossed her vision, flying above her. Excalibur sliced through the monstrous trees, cutting them into pieces with hefty swings.

The hand shapes curled in on themselves, shrinking and rotting until they decayed into gold dust.

A tinny chuckle echoed from the blue holograph of Dr. Roman. "Guess the battle's over."

Mordred propped herself up on an elbow and watched the figure of her father, silhouetted against the sun.


	6. Ad Meliora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Towards better things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this very much, I might go back and make changes later. We're almost done!

Arturia flicked through TV channels aimlessly, various shapes and colours alternating in the darkened break room. She eventually settled on snow, settling back on the couch and letting the sound of static fill her head in its attempt to cover anything else that may be lurking.

She didn't know why she couldn't sleep - if she knew, she would have done something about it. It was closing in on 3 in the morning and she still felt wide awake in the fuzzy way that came on when one hadn't slept at all.

She leaned her head into the plush back of the overstuffed couch, feeling the coarse weave on her neck as she sunk deeper into the cushions. The white noise continued, growing and washing over her like waves.

_Once you pull that sword, you stop being human._

The words had replayed countless times in her mind, warping into different tones until they revolved in maddening circles around her head.

_Once you pull that sword, you-_

_Once you pull that sword-_

_Once you-_

The soft sound of bare feet padding against tile brought her almost back to the surface, the layer of fog clearing from around her save for a few clouds on the edges of her vision.  
Mordred stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was loose, falling in tangles around her shoulders. Since she always kept her physical form it must have been seen to that she received a proper set of pajamas, the matching cotton pants and button-down a size too big and drowning her frame.

Arturia remained where she was as the girl tip-toed towards her. Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Mordred inched her way onto the opposite end of the couch, finally sinking in to the seat and watching the grains of colour dance across the screen opposite.

“It’s not playing anything.” Her voice was small, so small.

Arturia gave a hum in response, her lips still stuck shut from disuse.

The pair watched the screen for a while in silence. Arturia’s eyes passed over to her son. Her face was forward and difficult to read. _What did she want?_

The younger brought her legs up and folded them against her chest slowly, as if through water, her joints stiff.

“It’d be better if I weren’t here.” her voice was barely above a whisper.

That made Arturia open her eyes and blink. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.” She brought her face close to her knees, letting her hair fall over it.

_Stop doing that. Stop reaching out and then pulling away. Can’t you see I’ll do anything you want, if you’d just tell me what that is? What do you want?_

_Once you pull that sword you-_

_No_

_-Stop being human._

_They'd believed the King could do anything. Win any battle, settle any argument, simply by appearing and having the innate ability to Fix Everything. The King who was never shaken, who never faltered. Maybe sometimes she'd believed it too._

Arturia lifted her head a few inches, stretching out the sore spots in her neck.

“Mordred, come here.”

Mordred remained curled into herself, retracting her hands into the arms of her shirt.

“I will not ask again.”

That seemed to work better. Mordred shifted sideways, drawing closer to her father. Her shoulders jolted a little as Arturia wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling them against each other.

The older drew the other further back, adjusting herself into a lying position, one arm still holding Mordred on top of her. She followed without protest.

The king gazed down at the top of the blonde head rested on her chest.

_Once you pull that sword-_

Arturia firmly silenced the words.

“I will protect you,” she chose hers carefully. “To the best of my ability.” That didn’t seem like a good place to leave off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I can’t be everything you want,” she continued, softer. “And I won’t pretend to know what I’m doing. But I can be here, should you need me.”

She watched Mordred’s head rise and fall with her chest. A few breaths passed before a small hiccup sounded from the girl.  
There were a few more hiccups that built up before they erupted into sobs, Mordred’s shoulders heaving as they wracked through her. Loud gulps filled the air as Arturia ran her fingers through the thick blonde tangles.

Mordred cried steadily, head buried in her chest. Arturia realized that she didn’t even mind that a mess was being made down the front of her white frock. She might have to ask someone later if that was normal.

She kept as still as possible, feeling the small body jerk as the painful, relieving sounds filled the room.

Eventually the cries settled down, mixing together with the dull white noise of the television before fading off.

As the ragged breathing grew softer and she felt Mordred relax piece by piece, the rhythmic sounds took over and Arturia felt herself fade into them too.

~~~~~

The following morning Dr. Roman went to fetch his morning coffee and encountered a very different sight. The pale rays of sunlight pushed through the window and fell on the two Sabers asleep on the couch, limbs intertwined. Mordred’s head was tucked under her father’s chin, dried tear streaks running down her cheeks.

The scientist quietly tip-toed out of the room so as not to disturb them, but not before snapping several pictures on his phone and mass-emailing them to everyone on Chaldea.


	7. Hic Manebimus Optime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here we will stay, most excellently."

Newcomers to Chaldea were summoned via the Gate, stepping through a blinding blue light into a vast chamber, a high-ceilinged cavern lined with humming pipes and blinking electronic devices.

As they stepped into the metallic vault, rubbing their eyes as they adjusted to the new room and their bodies felt the rush of new Mana, a figure in blue would come into focus, shortly followed by an array of other Servants fanned out in a semicircle behind her, standing in formation to welcome the new Heroic Spirit.

“Welcome,” the blonde one would greet, standing straight with Excalibur clasped in her hands, pointing towards the ground.

“I am Arthur, King of the Britons.” The new one would nod, recognizing the name well.

“And this is Mordred,” the king would continue, gesturing to the figure at her right arm.

“My son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thank you for all your views and kind feedback on this silly thing, I wrote it mainly as a gift to a friend but I'm so glad others enjoyed it too.  
> I have a related work with bonus chapters coming soon, thank you again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> hurr durr i'm a fancy writer who uses gratuitous latin in my titles and pretends it's not pretentious.
> 
> This work is going to be...at least 3 chapters, I think? With some added side chapters of shenanigans. I'm very very not used to writing multi-chapter fics (or anything longer than 1k words if we're being honest) so I'm just hoping for the best.


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